Tale of a Time Long Gone

A/N: Hello all! Nothing much to say at the moment, just hoping that you will like this chapter despite its mixture of emotions... A particularly long chapter at that, as well...

And as usual, a big thank you to my wonderful beta, Mina, for going through this one, too!

In this chapter: We discover why Rosalind suddenly appeared out of nowhere, we get a bit of fluff from the Rowena-and-Godric corner, a bit of uncertainty on Salazar's side - and what exactly is Helga doing in her nightdress by Salazar's bed? All that and more...

Enjoy!

Chapter 18 - Love Fulfilled

"Another lovely Wizarding tradition now sadly no longer in use, is the Ceremony of the Firstborn.

"The last recorded Ceremony had taken place in the early 1760's in honour of the Count de Malfois' Firstborn. The reason behind the disappearance of this custom is yet to be revealed.

"The Firstborn in a family held all the family's hopes, and most of the family's fortune.

"The Firstborn held the same rights - it made no difference whether they were male or female - aside of one thing: if the Firstborn was a daughter and when married she took her husband's name, and so did her children, then the Firstborn rights were immediately transferred to the next in line. Family fortune had to be kept within the family, unless there was no other choice.

"The fortune could not be transferred to members not of the immediate family..."

- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown

Salazar was helping Rowena in the garden. Helga had promised she would do that, Rowena said, but apparently she had been delayed in the village longer than anticipated. He hoped it was not a sign for grim events approaching. He was not a great admirer of outdoor work, and especially not of the onerous task of weeding, but as Rowena often said, they did not have much of a choice if they wanted to give their home a respectable appearance and he could not help but agree, the artist in him protesting at the weed-infested flowerbeds.

It was sunny day, and they hoped for a few more days of that weather after the frozen week they had had beforehand. The students in particular behaved in an extremely edgy fashion, wishing they could take their breaks outside. Rowena was rather cheerfully blasting weeds out of her way, and Salazar found himself wondering whether Godric and she had been doing something less than innocent the night before when they had less than politely asked Helga and himself to go away. Normally, she would have grumbled having to do that manual task, and wonder out loud why the House Elves could not be trusted with it, though knowing well that they considered most of what was not edible a weed. Today she seemed to enjoy her work. She even hummed.

It was the humming that lit like a Lumos Spell in his mind.

Feeling fairly certain that she would not harm a friend over such an innocent question, he gently inquired her doings during the night. Just in case, he did brace himself for a verbal abuse.

Laughing, she blasted yet another weed into smithereens and knelt beside him, grinning madly. "Well, let's just say that it shall remain a secret until tonight. We are not eating with the students this evening, my dear Salazar - I thought Godric would have told you. Dinner will be served at sundown in my quarters. Don't be late, and remind Helga to be ready as well." Then, laughing, she picked herself up and continued mutilating the renegade plants ruining her patch of garden.

Helga did not return to her chambers all afternoon, and Salazar was understandably more than a little worried, but there was not much he could do. There were classes to teach and Castle renovations to be done. He decided that were she to miss dinner, he would personally go after her. He had the feeling that, were she to miss dinner, Rowena as well would go personally after her, and for far less benevolent reasons.

Godric told him about the special dinner about an hour before sunset, sheepishly admitting that he had forgotten telling him beforehand. Salazar found himself wondering what could make his friend so forgetful.

He entered Rowena's small main chamber almost half an hour early, only to find her in Godric's arms. He did not think it was such a good idea to do what they were doing when they knew they would have guests coming any minute, but nonetheless, he coughed lightly to catch their attention. The couple sprang away from each other, looking flustered. Rowena's hair was mussed, and Godric's clothes were rather rumpled.

Godric was wearing his best robes, something he did not do often, and that Salazar found exceedingly strange. Godric was just not the robe-wearing type. He liked his normal warrior garb in which he had no trouble wielding his sword and generally moving his limbs, and was most comfortable in them. Robes were a status symbol in the magic community, however, and it seemed like something was very important to him that day, since he wore his deep red, gold embroidered robe with the symbol of the lion on its breast - the ones he said were tacky and ridiculous, but had been caught eyeing them quite frequently by Salazar. At least he did not put on the new hat that his mother had bought him only very recently, saying it was the latest fashion in the London wizarding society. If Salazar was not much mistaken, that hat was safely ensconced under Godric's bed, gathering dust. He did not blame his friend. He, Salazar Slytherin, would not be caught dead, wearing that sort of hat.

Rowena was also wearing her best gown: a blue velvet one with coppery needlework on its high collar, down its front, on the edge of the sleeves, and on the hem of the heavy skirts. It was the one she got out only for the most special of occasions, since it was so costly and dear to her. He remembered her carrying it carefully folded inside tissue-thin cloth in their saddlebags on the journey from the Glen, oh-so-long-ago. She also had her hair out of its usual bun, and gathered it up with a copper comb and then let the strands cascade down, which was a rare thing in itself. It had been her favourite way of dressing her hair before they started out on their journey, but was rather impractical considering all they had done since.

On the burnished table at the center of the chamber were the best gold plates and silver cutlery, given to them along with a House-Elf by one of Ceridwen's more wealthy contacts, accompanied by tall goblets made for them especially by a talented craftsman down in the Loch, for the price of repairing his roof. The smells coming from the covered dishes were overwhelmingly delicious. The House Elves had outdone themselves.

"What's the occasion?" Salazar asked curiously, suddenly feeling inadequate in his much less elaborate green doublet and simple black trousers.

"You will know soon enough," Godric said in a conspiratorial whisper, luxuriously motioning him to sit down as though he was the master of the house. "I thought Helga will be coming with you?"

"As a matter of fact..." Salazar started slowly, keeping his eyes on Rowena, daring her to explode. "Last time I checked, Helga was not back from the Loch."

"What?!" Rowena exclaimed. "But I told her I needed her here tonight!"

"Hush, love," Godric said, taking hold of her hand. "There's still a little less than half an hour before she has to be here. She probably arrived late and is getting ready this minute. Give her time."

To Salazar's surprise, Rowena allowed it to pass, nodding. She did not explode.

They waited, making idle conversation as they did. Normally, they would have had serious discussion concerning the school's future, or the impending confrontation with Ambrosius, but that evening it seemed to Salazar that Godric was too scatterbrained for that, and that Rowena was... well, for a lack of a better word - giddy.

Time passed. Sundown passed, but Godric managed to keep Rowena distracted enough not to go after Helga with a vengeance. Almost half an hour past, there was a timid knock on the front door, and then it opened slowly, and Helga's sheepish face appeared in the opening.

"Before you start ranting, Raven?" she begged, seeing Rowena taking a deep breath. "I was delayed for reasons beyond me. We have a guest."

Opening the door further, Helga stepped in, allowing two other women step inside as well. One was Ceridwen. The other, for lack of better wording, was not.

His eyes widening, his mind clogged with shock, Salazar got up and bowed deeply, closely followed by Godric, who bowed even deeper.

In front of them was a very regal Rosalind Ravenclaw.

Rowena did not bother with protocol. With a cry that was much more befitting a girl than a grown woman of her age, she ran to her mother and clung to her. Tears flooded down her cheeks.

"Mama!" she cried, her arms around her mother's neck, burying her face in that welcoming shoulder. Salazar, understandably, was more than a little surprised to see his friend losing all control of her emotions. He did not remember the last time Rowena was not her cool and collected self when Godric was not around to test her patience. In fact, he was not sure that he had ever seen her abandoning herself to feeling like that.

Well, he thought, there's a first time to everything.

"Mama?" Rosalind said, mildly surprised, though if Salazar was any judge, she was delighted. "You have not called me that since you were ten, I think."

Rowena did not say anything. She simply held unto her mother as though she was holding on for dear life. Rosalind hugged her and let her be, a soft smile on her face.

It took a while for Rowena to recompose herself. Only then did Salazar dare ask, "Madam Ravenclaw? What are you doing here?"

Rosalind, settling down in a padded chair Godric offered her, stayed silent for a while, pondering his question. She then laughed. "What am I doing here? Well, my dear Lord Slytherin, what is wrong with a mother visiting her daughter she had not seen in five years? And a daughter who doesn't write, at that?"

Rowena's cheeks coloured crimson. Salazar knew that she did not write Rosalind for over three years, but having been by her side constantly through those three years, he realized that writing to her worried mother was the last thing on Rowena's mind.

"I'm sorry, Mother," she said, recomposing herself. "We were extremely busy around here."

"So I hear," Rosalind said with a quirk of her eyebrow. "Since I have not heard from you since you wrote that you escaped that dratted man and were going up north, I went out of the Glen and the Valley and started traveling in the direction of Stonehenge. I was half in mind to walk straight into the Council Chamber and demand that they would let the four of you be."

"Mother!" Rowena choked at the older woman's words. "They would have locked you up and used your talents!"

Rosalind waved an impatient hand. "I am a master of traveling through magic-"

"Apparition."

"I beg your pardon?"

Salazar grinned as he met the woman's eyes. "It's called Apparition, Madam Ravenclaw - a term your daughter coined. We teach it to our older students now that Rowena managed to complete your project and make it easier for the less talented witches and wizards."

Rosalind's eyes lit up, and abruptly she turned to her daughter, an eager expression in her eyes. "Really? You really did manage it?"

Rowena nodded meekly, making Godric stifle a snort, Helga to avert her eyes and Salazar to choke on his own laughter. They all knew how immensely proud their friend was at cracking the system and creating an easy way to Apparate.

"How did you do it? Did you use a change of incantation? A magic shortcut? Directed different parts of the magic to different routes? Did you-"

"Not now, Rosalind? Please?" Helga said. "You were about to tell us how you found out just how busy we were."

The elder Ravenclaw seemed to shake herself from research mode and focus her mind back to the matter at hand. She straightened her skirts and once again looked more like the dignified matron she was instead of an excited child. "As I was saying, I was not afraid to go into Stonehenge, knowing that I could get out in a split second. But I never got there.

"Halfway there, I met an old comrade of Ryan. A man by the name of...Cedric, I think. I haven't seen him in a while, and I was never as close to the Knights as Ceridwen here, since Ryan and I were not exactly... married at the time, so I can't really be sure."

Salazar was quite certain that Rosalind was not telling the truth. He knew her well enough to know that she probably never forgot a single thing in her life. Neither did he believe that she did not know the Knights of the Phoenix just as well as Ceridwen. The only thing he could think of was that she was trying, years later and possibly out of sheer habit, to maintain the image of a proper woman, doing as was suitable for such women. Unmarried women did not mingle with their future husbands' mates. He merely smiled, though, and nodded.

Sir Cedric was one of the Knights whom they had contacted but lived too far off and also did not have children in the right age. He helped them, however, and was part of the network the Knights devised years before and now reestablished. It was not surprising that he knew what to tell Rosalind.

They all listened carefully, though, as Rosalind continued. "He recognized me, after scrutinizing me for a bit, and then he asked what I was doing there. I said I was looking for my daughter. It was then that he started laughing and told me that my daughter was safe and sound, and that she and her friends were creating mayhem in the north. He told me that all I had to do was go to the Loch and from there people would guide me onwards. That was where Helga and Ceridwen met me - and here I am." She took a deep breath. "So I understand that you are behind the unrest in wizarding communities all over the country? A rebellion, eh?"

The four glanced sheepishly at each other, but said nothing.

"I understand then, that there is some sort of special occasion celebrated tonight?" she said. "Am I invited?"

"You are much more than invited, Madam Ravenclaw!" Godric said hurriedly. "In fact, we are extremely glad that you are here, for I'm sure Rowena would have been extremely desolate without anyone from her family. That said, shall we go and eat? I'll have the House Elves set another place on the table."

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, a House Elf appeared with a new set of plate and cutlery, setting them on the table. As soon as it disappeared, Godric courteously offered one arm to Rosalind, and the other to his mother, and led them to the table with all decorum required.

The food, Salazar noted as they started to eat, was much more sophisticated than what they usually ate with the students in the Council Hall. Children, as a rule, mostly have much simpler tastes than that of their elders. Many do not like the complicated tastes many herbs and powders could give what they eat. It was a grand meal, and he regretted that they could not eat food like that more often.

After they had finished the first course and main course, the food cleaned itself off their plates, and sweet things started to appear on the table instead of the various meat dishes and vegetable bowls. It was then, finally, that Godric, nudged by Rowena, got up to capture their attention.

"You have no idea how glad I - we - are to see you all here. It is extremely important for us to that you have all assented to come." He smiled at them all and continued. "Well, as Helga and Salazar most certainly knew, we are not eating our dinner with the students as we usually do, since we - Rowena and I - have something to share with you," he was looking at his friends and his mother, though not quite meeting Rosalind's eyes.

Salazar had a feeling that he knew what his old friend was about to say. He felt a smile tug at his lips. And then, as though to confirm his suspicions, Godric took Rowena's hand gently and went on.

"I am especially glad to have you here, Rosalind, for this," Godric finally smiled at the older woman. Then he continued and said, "Last night I asked Rowena whether she would consent to be my wife. She has graciously accepted. We are getting married!"

The ringing silence lasted only mere seconds. As soon as Godric's words sank in, they all started talking as one, offering their congratulations and their hopes for a great future.

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Salazar and Godric were sitting together in their private room on the ground floor only a week or so after Godric and Rowena's momentous announcement, when their female counterparts entered, arguing as they went. It was not an angry argument, but an argument all the same.

"I swear, Rowena, the Castle is moving," Helga was saying, wringing her hands.

"It cannot possibly move," Rowena countered, ever her logical self. "It's a building - our building at that. We built it the way it is."

"Yes, but I'm telling you, it moves, and moreover, it changes."

"What are you two talking about?" Salazar asked curiously, eyeing the two friends.

"Helga claims that the rooms in the castle move from one place to another," Rowena explained.

"I was trying to get to North Tower and the stairs I know for certain lead there, led me to the third floor!" Helga grumbled.

"Maybe you took the wrong turn?" Salazar suggested diplomatically.

As it turned out, it was not diplomatically enough. Helga's face turned red, and her eyes narrowed angrily. "I did not take the wrong turn!" she stamped her foot. "I know this Castle like the palm of my hand, and I knew exactly where I was going - and still I got to the wrong place. And if we're at it - last week another door appeared down the fifth floor corridor! I've never seen it before, and I know that we didn't put it there! Something's going on, and I don't like it!"

"Let's go then," Godric said cheerfully. They all looked at him as though he was mad, and he hurried to elaborate. "Let's go check this staircase that Helga took. We all know the layout of the Castle perfectly. Let's all go and determine whether our pretty little Helga is going insane, or if she's really right." After that he had to dodge Helga's hand.

They decided to take Godric's advice, and stepped out of their chamber.

Salazar enjoyed evening walks in the halls of Hogwarts. The children were either back in the village or, in the case of those lodging within, ensconced in their group chambers, so the corridors were empty and silent. He loved the echoing quality of the silence, which allowed him to hear even the slightest movement of a moth.

They walked in companionable silence, each in their own minds recalling each turn on their way to North Tower. They have walked this path enough times to be able to reach it with their eyes closed.

Finally, they reached the staircase that would take them to the seventh floor and to the entry of the tower. Only the staircase did not go up there. Halfway up, Salazar had the feeling that something was wrong. The staircase as he knew it was supposed to take a half turn and continue at an angle to the right. It now went to the left. The others next to him also stopped.

"I'm pretty sure that we're supposed to take it right now," Rowena said in an odd tone. Salazar risked a peek in her direction and found her staring at the solid wall to their right. She then touched the wall gingerly, as though afraid it would bite her. She finally turned to glance at Helga. "We had better go on up. I want to see if we end up on the third floor as you said."

They did. Out of a broad, arched opening they had never seen before, they walked into the third floor, right in front of a tapestry given to them as a payment from a weaver whose son started at Hogwarts that year. The young couple portrayed on the fabric watched them curiously as the four started examining the arch carved with a rope design.

"This wasn't here yesterday," Godric said in a low voice.

"No," the young woman in the tapestry replied in a lilting voice. "It was not. It appeared here only this morning."

"Thank you," he said politely. "Where did you say that new door appeared, Helga?"

Their journey up to the fifth floor was uneventful to a fault. They had not seen anything out of the ordinary, and as far as Salazar could tell, there was nothing new anywhere. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the ornate, English Oak door, with its burnished brass knob, that stood clearly ahead of them.

His heart thumping loudly, Salazar reached out to the cold-looking metal, and grasped. His hand touched nothing. Narrowing his eyes, he tried again. Again he missed. Squinting, he leaned closely and examined the door. He let out a soft gasp.

"What?" the other three asked at the same time.

"The illusion is amazing," he supplied, rather cryptically, he admitted to himself after a moment.

"Illusion?"

"This isn't a door," he explained, a pained expression on his face. "We are being duped, at least in this case. It's... well, some sort of a painting. The artist has the best technique I had ever seen - practically indistinguishable from the real thing until you try and touch it. This, my friends," he rapped his knuckles on the apparent door, feeling stone under his touch, "is a wall pretending to be a door."

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Salazar spent every free moment of the next week or so examining the pretend door. As far as he could determine, the thing used to create it was not paint. He used every scourging charm he could think of to remove it, attempted to scratch it off with a knife, tried to paint over it, but everything failed. The painting of the door remained there. He questioned all the students whether they had anything to do with it. He intimidated many of them, but none confessed to it. The door remained a mystery.

It was only about two weeks later that Rowena came up with something. They all gathered as was their wont in their private chamber in the evening, preparing to relax after a full day of chasing after children bent on every form of mischief ever created with magic and without, when she exchanged glances with Helga and opened her mouth.

"Helga and I have been... keeping watch on the strange staircase that we know we built so that it will lead to the seventh floor and North Tower. As far as we noticed, it leads to the third floor once a week, and the rest of the time it leads to the seventh.

"Simultaneously, we asked a few of the older students to keep an eye open to anything weird happening about the Castle. So far they have reported..." she pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment out of her waist pouch and, unfolding it, read, "-'A vanishing step halfway through the side staircase leading to the Ravenclaw group chamber; a door that refuses to open unless asked nicely and flatteringly on the fourth floor; a room that appears only twice a week down at the first level of the dungeons; a new shortcut between the south corridor of the sixth floor and the northern one.' - I'm not too certain about this, my friends, but I think there may be more changes in other places, and I don't know about you, but I have no idea what is going on."

Salazar felt his mouth going dry. Was this some trick of Ambrosius'? Could he have finally managed to breach their defences? It was simply unthinkable. The only way in which it could possibly have happened, would be if he was working through their students, and Salazar did not want to think it possible of any of the children under his care. He did not put it past Ambrosius to do so.

The changes in the Castle's layout worried him. They could not know what else would change. For all they could know, one day they would wake up to find themselves bricked in their rooms by a new wall that would sprout up during the night, or discover that their rooms turned into new balconies. Students could be killed, accidents could happen. They had to find out what was going on.

That afternoon, just like every time they encountered something that they could not solve by themselves, they gathered in Sir Rhys' house in order to consult with him and Ceridwen. Now they also had Rosalind, who was a guest in Sir Rhys' house until the wedding would take place. Ceridwen would not hear of anything else. When Rosalind had rather timidly said that she would be comfortable enough in the Castle with her daughter, Ceridwen said that she would hate the noise the children made all day, every day, and said that she would stay with her. It had been done.

They explained the problem to their elders, each bursting into the others' words, arguing as they went, offering their colliding theories of what was going on, contradicting each others' theories and generally creating great mayhem. The three older people simply sat quietly, watching and listening as the four friends battled for dominion.

"But if it's really Ambrosius like Salazar suggested, then we will have to close the school!" Rowena suddenly said in alarm, interrupting Helga in the middle of her explanation that it had to be some terribly talented, mischievous student. "If that abominable man is messing with our home, then nowhere is safe! It cannot be it - we cannot let it be that. Salazar, your suggestion is ridiculous!"

"Rowena, this is war. If our home is contaminated then we are in danger and must evacuate the building. We can't risk our lives just for sentimental value, nor can we risk the children's lives," Salazar said, feeling awful when he did. He understood Rowena's sentiments. He did not want to leave Hogwarts, either.

"The only this I can think of," Rosalind's soft voice surprised them all out of their argument, "is that somehow your Castle became alive."

Salazar felt his eyes widening in surprise. Alive? How could a castle become alive?

Rosalind apparently spotted his surprise and that of the others, for she smiled. "Let me see if I can explain this to you, children," she said, her voice taking on the mantle of a teacher, her back straightening and her hands resting on her thighs. Apparently while they were all arguing, she had considered the options and came up with one of her own, as ludicrous as it may have sounded. "When you came here, as I understand it, this marvelous Castle of yours was nothing but rubble and few parts of wall still standing. You built this seven-floored building in about a year. It is sturdy, it is magnificent, and it will last for centuries and even millennia. Muggles would not have been able to do so. The rebuilding alone could have taken them a decade or more, depends on the amount of resources spent on the thing. Also, this building is so precariously built, with all its parts jutting out at various angles that were it Muggle, it would never hold.

"It is, however, as un-Muggle as these things get. Why does it hold? Why did it take you so little time to build it with mostly just the four of you? The answer is simple - magic. The four of you invested your magic in every single thing in this building. If I'm not very much mistaken, you used magic to lift the stones into place; you used it to stick them to their place. You used magic to carve the rock you needed and to carve decorations into the arches and some of the walls. Magic decorates the ceiling of your Hall, and magic protects you as you live here. Every single space in that place is soaking with magic.

"My conclusion, therefore, is that the Castle, in its own way, became alive. The magic you used to build it to your standards, now develops it further, allows it to change and reform itself. The magic turns your home into an even better, more interesting place than it previously was. It plays with you in a way, making games to make life more enjoyable.

"You may think it's bad, that you don't really know where you will end up and that you will get lost because it changes all the time, but what you don't realize just yet is that there is certain regularity to the matter - there are rules. Like the staircase Helga found first. It changes only once a week. Just once a week it leads to another place. This is about it, I'm sure you will find it true to everything that changed in your Castle."

As it turned out in the next month or so, Rosalind was more or less right. There were the things that were permanent, such as the door on the fifth floor, or the vanishing steps that they had discovered in staircases all over the school, and then there were those, like the staircase that led somewhere else on one day and to another at a different time. Things seemed to constantly change, but after a month of carefully watching every bit of the Castle, they had concluded that it was settling down and that no more sudden changes would plague their school. The students were soon notified of the changes, and as things calmed back down, Salazar had to admit that it was far more interesting than before.

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After many an argument, it had been agreed that Godric and Rowena's wedding would take place the next summer. Ceridwen and Rosalind were adamant concerning this, saying that it would not be appropriate for two upstanding members of the Loch's community to marry in such a hurry, as though they had something to hide.

Rowena had blushed profusely at that, saying that it was nothing like that. Godric simply looked as though he had swallowed his tongue. He had mouthed wordlessly for a while, but then shut his mouth and glared at his mother and his future mother-in-law for even suggesting that they would do something like that.

On the rebellion front, thing seemed to be looking up. Marlowe Cane's regular parcels containing phials filled with memories for the Pensieve (or as Helga insistently called it, the Basin of Memories), gave them a very clear inside look of the Council of Warlocks. The members of the Council seemed to divide themselves into two different fractions. Ambrosius, who still, unfortunately, held the position of Chief Warlock, headed the one and still dictated the Council's decisions, but to the other side were Lords Gaius and Billius, who, though not entirely opposing Ambrosius, opposed some of his more extreme decisions.

This rift in the Council contributed to slowing down the drafting by force to the Council's training camps, which meant that the four friends had managed buying themselves a little more time.

In the meanwhile, they were seeing members of many groups opposing Ambrosius, who came to offer their support as it became apparent that the four teachers from Hogwarts were their best chance at eliminating Ambrosius and his minions. Almost every other night the Council Hall was packed full of Knights and others, who came to confer with them and make their strategic plans. Knights of the Phoenix who did not live in the Loch were going back and forth from all over the country, bringing information, or offering ideas. The Castle, by day a school whose name started spilling farther and farther away, by night turned into a swarm of rebels, all preparing for a confrontation that may take years to come.

As weeks turned into months, the wedding day came closer with each passing day.

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"Oh, Merlin! Helga, I'm getting married in a month's time!" Salazar could hear Rowena's shriek, almost two corridors away.

Helga, who had been cuddling in his arms for the past hour or so, sighed and removed herself from the divan they were sitting on. "I had better go before she starts hyperventilating," she muttered, kissing his forehead.

As he watched her leave the room, he turned on his back, stretching on the divan. He did not know what was going to become of his and Helga's relationship. He was sure that he felt strongly for her, and they have been together longer than Rowena and Godric, and being together felt wonderful to him, but... Now that Godric and Rowena were going to be married, what would it do to what he and Helga had? He had seen the dreamy expression that stole over Helga's features many times in the past months, and he knew that it meant that she was fantasizing over the upcoming wedding. And so, slowly at first, and then at an overwhelming rush, he became afraid.

He was afraid that Helga would now expect him to do the big step and ask her to... But he was not ready for such a thing. Never in his relationship with the young woman did he even consider saying those words to her. It simply never came up - not in their conversations and not in his quiet moments alone.

It was not yet time for him to commit himself to such a thing - Marriage.

He was afraid of what would happen when Helga would realize that he would not be asking her to be his wife. Yet.

As far as he was concerned, he had to postpone any such life-changing decision to a later date. He was not the rushing-into-things type like Godric. He needed to think things over, mull over them, and have them properly thought-out before he acted upon them. No, marriage was not something to be considered just yet. He enjoyed his arrangement with Helga just the way it was.

When Helga returned later that day, she explained that Rowena was having a slight panic attack, and that they needed to calm her down, so she had taken her down to the village and to Sir Rhys' house, so that they could start on the wedding gown.

"Merlin! She's a bag of nerves, that woman," Helga said, settling back into her former place and half-turning so she could kiss him. "I had never thought I'd see Rowena like this. I definitely hope she will get over it, or the week leading to the wedding will be one big problem."

He nodded noncommittally and quickly diverted the subject to take her mind off weddings.

Yes, he thought to himself as kissed her deeply, allowing his hands to wonder off. I must keep her away from dangerous subjects such as that...

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Helga's prediction that the week leading to the wedding would be hellish was not very far off the mark, but it was not Rowena who caused this. The students had been released for the summer the week before, but some of the village children whose parents had no need of their help stayed around for additional lessons, and help in difficult subjects.

Salazar was on his way to tutor a boy who needed help with his potions, passing the opening leading to the Council Hall, when Ceridwen's voice called him to halt.

"What is it?" he asked politely as he entered the room. There were piles of flowers everywhere, and colourful cloths of every kind. He dreaded the clash of colour those women could cause unwatched. His artistic soul protested loudly, but he kept it in check, allowing Ceridwen and Rosalind and their many female helpers have their fun.

"We need more help here," Godric's mother said briskly.

"Well, I'm on my way to a student, but-"

"Oh, I don't mean you, Salazar. This is woman business. Dahlia said Rhiannon is around here somewhere, studying Runes. Ask her to help, please?"

"Fine, fine," he waved her off and strode out of the Hall, grumbling to himself. Woman business, indeed!

He found Rhiannon in a small antechamber just off the entrance hall, frowning over a thick tome. Her dark brown hair fell into her eyes and every other second or so, she pushed it back irritably, a dripping quill in her hand leaving black marks on her pale cheeks.

"Rhiannon! I need your help, girl! Come here," Salazar called his niece, startling her out of her thoughts.

"What is it, Uncle Salazar?" she asked, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes yet again. "I'm doing my work."

"The work can wait. What is it, anyway?"

"Runes. I need to translate this page."

"I'll do it for you if you come and help me."

"Uncle!"

He laughed. "Will it make you feel better if I tell you that this is for the wedding?"

As he had expected, Rhiannon's eyes lit up. The girl adored both Rowena and Helga, and the fact that one of her role models was getting married to someone who was as good as her uncle made her ecstatic. "What do you need?"

"I need you to help Ceridwen with decorating the Council Hall. Would you do that for me? I know you're the best I can have."

Not saying another thing, Rhiannon skipped out of the room. He heard her footsteps accelerating into a run as she hurried to the Hall.

It was already late when he had descended to the Hall, intent on getting a look on the place for Godric's sake - just to make sure it was not too brightly coloured, or too flowery, his friend said, with a look of absolute horror on his face.

"Ah, Salazar!" Ceridwen said, from her place near the rafters, where she had been levitated to by Rosalind who was on the ground. "I was wondering when will you come over - or anyone else for that matter. Rhiannon went out to pick more flowers over two hours ago. Would you go look for her? I know she has the tendency to stare at a butterfly in wonder for hours, and we really need those flower arrangements of hers."

"Two hours?" he asked, frowning. "She's a responsible girl. She knows you need it. I'll go search for her. She may have fallen asleep or something. Where was she going?"

"The small vale just beyond the Loch. The prettiest flowers are there."

With a nod, he walked out in the direction of his horse.

The weather was fine that day, and Salazar had sincerely hoped that it would last until the wedding the next week. The vale was exactly where Ceridwen had told him. It was a lush, green thing, where brightly coloured flowers of all kinds flourished during all seasons. It was a pleasant place, a place where he could see his niece falling asleep in contentment, but it was also, very, very empty. Rhiannon was not there.

Getting off Cian, he walked into the vale, thinking there might be a land fold that might be hiding the girl. Still he could see nothing. Climbing atop one of the surrounding hills, he saw many other tiny ravines and vales between many other hills, but Rhiannon was nowhere in sight.

Taking a deep breath, he shouted, "Rhiannon! Come on, girl! Don't make me worry! Rhiannon! Are you there? Rhiannon!"

There was no answer.

Frowning, he started descending down the hill and back towards Cian. It was when he reached the bottom of the vale that the screams began. Horrified, pained screams that pierced his ears. Someone was in trouble, and in an immense amount of pain. They were high enough to be those of a woman - or a girl.

"Rhiannon!" he shouted, trying to be heard over the screams coming from every direction. "Rhiannon! Hold on! I'm coming to get you! Hold on!"

All he got in reply was another loud scream, and then another, and another.

His head pounding, he raced back atop the hill. From the village, more than half a mile away, came alarmed shouts, and he knew that others would be coming soon. He could not wait however, his niece was in trouble. He had to get to her.

"Rhiannon!" he shouted again, trying to determine from which direction the sound was more than just an echo.

He ran and ran. He sped up low hillsides, stood atop them for a while and then raced back down, heart racing, blood pounding in his ears. He had no idea how long he ran, or where exactly he was. All that mattered was that he would reach his niece on time. That was all that mattered. All that he wished for. All that he could not have.

He heard the fire even before he had seen, felt, or smelled it. Horror filling his heart, he drew his wand and went around that final land fold. Whether he realized it or not, it was this sight that he would remember always.

There was a crowd of Muggles, cheering and laughing at the sight.

There was Rhiannon.

And she was burning.

With an angry scream, he leaped into the crowd of Muggles, pushed them aside, and not thinking of consequences, used his wand to douse the stake to which Rhiannon was tied. Her eyes met his for just one moment before he was overwhelmed by Muggles, excited to have snared another witch. A man-witch.

She was still alive.

He would not let them have his wand. Never. He cursed them, hexed them, kicked, scratched and bit. He was surrounded by red haze that would not let him go. He would kill each and every one of those men that were out for a witch hunt. In the back of his mind he could hear others, who must have seen the smoke rising from the fire and had an easier time of it reaching the place. There were screams of pain, and groans of death. He did not care. None could live for what they had attempted to do.

And then, without warning, there was no one left to fight. All lay dead on the cold ground, bloody and hacked to pieces.

Only then did Salazar turn to where two men were untying Rhiannon from the stake. Her chest moved only a little as they put her down gently, their face alternating between sadness and anger. Tears in his eyes, he knelt beside her. One look told him everything.

She was dead. Maybe not yet, but in a few minutes she would be. He had seen it before. Some witches and wizards were saved, only to die moments later from either taking in too much smoke, or from burning up partly. Rhiannon's legs were almost black, and the smoke that came from the fire before it was doused off, had taken its toll.

"Uncle..." her hand grabbed his, her parched lips opened only to the thinnest of cracks, her voice so weak that he had to lean down, blinking back his tears. "Uncle... tell... Aunt Rowena... that I rea... really wanted... to... be there... Tell... Mother and... Father... and Shane and... Warwick... not to be... sad. Tell them that... I want...little Searlas... to know... that I loved him... You... will?"

"Yes," he could barley let the words leave his throat, "I will. I love you, Rhiannon."

"I... love you... too... Uncle. I...Love..."

She never finished what she had wanted to say. The light died in her eyes, and her hand on his went limp. Rhiannon, daughter of Dahlia and Bran, was no more.

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It was a sad day in both the Loch and Hogwarts. A week that was supposed to be joyful, where people would prepare to celebrate the wedding of two important members of the community, had turned into a week of mourning for a girl everyone had known and loved. All people of the Loch were clad in black that week. All came to the funeral ceremony of Rhiannon. There was not a dry eye in the village's place of the dead.

Rowena wanted to cancel the wedding. She said that she did not want to contaminate her favourite student's, her adopted niece's, memory. She wanted to let the mourning run its course. It was then that Dahlia, her eyes red-rimmed and her throat hoarse from crying, had stamped her foot down, coming out of her house for the first time, saying that there was no better way to honour her little girl than to go on with the plan and be happy. Rhiannon had lived a happy life, she said, a small smile cracking on her face through the tears, and she would have wanted nothing better than to see her favourite teacher wedded. Dahlia was adamant about it, and had personally gone with Helga to make sure that Rowena was ready for her wedding day.

The ceremony had been a small one, all things considered. Rowena and Godric did not want the entire old fashioned Wizard Bonding in their way, and had told so to Rosalind and Ceridwen, who were greatly disappointed. What was left unsaid, however, was that they did not wish to hurt Dahlia and Bran by going through a lavish ceremony, while they still mourned the loss of their only daughter. Dahlia, though she had been the one to convince them to go through with it anyway, took the gesture in the spirit it was given.

It took place within the Council Hall. The Hall was intended to be covered by flowers and brightly coloured draperies, but those had been stripped down the day they had put Rhiannon to earth. Her delicate flower arrangements, so carefully made, had covered her as she had been lowered into the ground, framing her small, pale face and slight body, their lovely colours somehow accenting the fact that she would never wake again.

"You look lovely, Rowena," Dahlia said softly, wiping tears from her eyes as she observed her friend on that morning. Godric was not there. He was with Rhys, preparing for the ceremony himself. Salazar came by just for a moment to see if everything was all right, and found himself staring at Rowena in wonder. Dahlia was right. She looked lovely.

Her coppery hair in a complicated knot left her slender neck exposed. A generous part of her breasts was also to be seen above the dark green fabric of her velvet gown. The gown itself was covered with gold brocade. He had no idea how long it had taken the village's women to make, but he appreciated the hard, long work invested in it. She was really the right woman for Godric.

Smiling, he bowed to Rowena, who curtsied in return, a wide smile spreading on her own face, and then left the chamber in order to assist Godric, who was probably a nervous wreck by that time.

To his surprise, the Godric who was sitting beside Sir Rhys, listening to the older man's less-than-reassuring tales of weddings he had seen and what fools the bridegrooms had made of themselves, was exceedingly calm, and even grinned at him while hearing a particularly gruesome story about a man who had died at his own wedding from overstress.

After asking Godric how it was that he was so bloody calm, his friend laughed. There he could hear a note of panic. "By holding myself together with every ounce of my will," he explained.

The wedding ceremony itself was directed by Sir Rhys, who kept it nice and simple. He also shortened it considerably. By nightfall that day, Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor were lawfully wedded husband and wife.

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Life after the wedding had slowly taken their natural course. Nothing much had changed except for Rowena and Godric moving in to larger, joined quarters. They still argued, and still made up soon after, and he and Helga were still the same. He felt certain that he had managed to make her forget about any marriage proposals. At the end of the summer break at school, Rosalind took her leave, promising that she would try and come visit again during the spring. School began again. It was hard for Salazar to see his two nephews coming to the Castle without their sister, and he knew the family was still mourning her loss every day, but he also knew that life had to go on.

And life did.

"Godric?" Salazar heard Helga's voice coming from Rowena's drawing room. "Salazar? Rowena wants to have a word with the two of you. Can you come in, please?"

The two were sitting next to the empty fireplace in the main chamber of Godric and Rowena's quarters, sipping wine and talking about their most recent information sent by Marlowe. Godric put down his glass and sighed. "She's going to reprimand us for drinking - you do realize that?"

Salazar smirked. "She's going to reprimand you, you mean. She's your wife."

"Trust me, I know," Godric replied with a smirk of his own.

"You are too satisfied to be allowed, Godric. Come then, let's see what Madam Ravenclaw has in store for us."

They walked into the drawing room, where the women were sitting, Helga knitting something with brightly-coloured yarn and Rowena busily alphabetizing her books with her back to them.

"Be a dear, Salazar, and hand me that Runic Comprehension - Collection of Essays," she said without turning back. "It's to your left."

Salazar did as bided, marveling at Rowena's ability to know what was behind her.

"Well, 'Wena?" Godric asked, settling himself in the big chair next to the fireplace. "Helga said you have something to tell us?"

"In a minute," she said. "Take a seat in the meantime, though I daresay you probably didn't even wait to be invited. Pour those two drunkards some tea, will you, Helga? I think it will do them much more good than that sour wine they've been delving into since noon."

Salazar laughed and sat down on the large sofa next to Helga, who, after serving the tea, immediately snuggled against him.

After a few minutes' time, Rowena turned to face them with a smile. "I have news to share with the two of you. They mean that a lot is going to change here in a short while. I already told Helga, but I think it's time for you two to know as well. At the end of the winter term, we will be joined with another member of our family."

"Is Rosalind coming early after all?" Godric asked.

Helga choked, but recovered and said, "Rosalind will certainly be coming, but that's not the member Raven is talking about."

"Well," Salazar began, "Ceridwen and Dahlia live in the Loch, and-" he then saw the incredulous expression on both women's faces and realization dawned on him. His eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Oh. Surely you don't mean-"

"I do," Rowena said with a bright, somewhat smug, smile.

"You've lost me," Godric confessed, and Salazar fought the urge to knock some sense into his friend's head - physically.

"Let me see if I can clarify things for you, my friend," he said sweetly. "When Rowena said another, what she actually meant was a new member of the family."

Godric frowned, took a sip from his cup of tea - and choked.

They had to thump him on the back for a while before he could stutter, "A-a-a-a-a baby?!"

Rowena laughed. "Yes, you big lump! You are going to have your Firstborn in half a year's time."

"But-but - how did this happen?"

"Well, dear," Rowena said in a deliberately slow, pointed voice," do you remember that night after the village's Midsummer Feast? I daresay you will, since you were very - passionate - that night, were you not? If you don't, then shall I remind you how we climbed up the stairs with our-"

Godric's cheeks turned red, and Salazar was quite certain that his were not a shade lighter. That woman needed to know that not everything required repeating. Attempting to salvage what was still possible, Godric begged his wife to stop, since he did know where babies came from.

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The following months were filled with excitement. The entire Castle and the village as well were abuzz with the news of Mistress Ravenclaw's pregnancy. Women all over the Loch began knitting for the unborn child. Scarves, and blankets, hats and little clothes were soon piling in every house. The men did their share, offering to build cradles and small wooden baths. The children in the Castle swarmed all over Rowena, asking to touch her growing belly, to see if they could feel the baby kicking.

In the first few months they had all taken the students' interest in good spirits, but as weeks went past, their enthusiasm diminished.

There was something not quite right with Rowena. She had pains that the other women of the village never experienced. At times she was completely incapacitated, staying in bed all day. The midwife came at least once a week to see what was happening. She somberly told Godric, Helga and Salazar that she predicts a hard birth.

Extremely worried, Godric sent a letter to Rosalind, asking that she would come at once and help. She was there within the week, this time a guest at the Castle, not wishing to leave her daughter alone. She looked extremely worried when she came out of Rowena's drawing room on the day she had arrived.

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Winter was finally waning, and Rowena still had not given birth. They were all sitting together in their private chamber after a day of teaching, though Rosalind was absent, having already withdrawn for the night. Rowena yet again failed to teach her classes. She sat in a heavily padded chair, given to her by one of the villagers especially for her pregnancy, looking disgruntled and fretful. She could not seem to find a comfortable place in her chair.

"Ooof," she finally let out, getting out of her chair with great effort. "When will this brat get out?"

Salazar looked at his friend. She definitely had cause to complain, he admitted to himself. Her beautiful figure was now so rounded, that she could not even see her feet. She suffered great backaches and all through those nine months she would sometimes be bedridden due to various pains, which meant that her students have had either free hours, or study some other subject. She was exceedingly pale, particularly during that last month, and a worried Godric confided that she was not eating well. Also, she was irritable. There were days when they could not get a word past her before she burst out in a fresh bout of bad temper.

Salazar did not blame her. The baby was due almost a week before, and even the midwife was starting to get worried. The students were also very concerned for their teacher's health. As much as she could be annoying, the girls especially looked up at her as a role model, some practically worshiping her. Now they all asked the other three about her health state at every possible moment. It was getting to be rather exasperating.

"I don't know about you," she said, one of her hands resting on her lower back, the other on her rounded belly, "but I am off to bed. Goodnight." Then she kissed Godric and wandered out of the chamber, muttering to herself in an undertone.

"I think I had better go with her," Helga said. "Just to make sure she's all right." And she left, too.

The two men glanced at each other. There were no words needed between them at that moment. Godric was extremely anxious. He had never had any experience with pregnant women, but even he knew something was wrong with his wife. Salazar did not know what to say to sooth him. He himself knew that pregnancies could exceed the preordained time, and a week was not that unusual, but Rowena herself was not well, and that did loom in his mind as something unpredictable and inevitably wrong.

Both men got up as one, exchanged their goodnights and left for their own chambers.

Unlike the previous two weeks, Salazar did not sleep fitfully that night. He slept soundly and even dreamed a good dream which he had enjoyed, when he was abruptly disturbed.

"Salazar?" he heard a voice, breaking into his pleasant dreams. "Salazar?"

He turned over, trying to find that meadow again, where he could see children laughing and singing. He almost found it - he could see the green grass just ahead, but the insistent voice returned, this time more urgent. "Salazar!"

Frowning, he reached for the grasses, but someone jabbed a finger between his ribs and he was startled awake.

"Helga?" What was she doing in his bedchamber in the middle of the night?

"Thank Merlin!" she said sharply, her face somber, golden tresses massed about her face in a messy pile. "I thought you'd never wake! Come on! Godric just came to get me. The baby is coming."

"The baby is coming? Isn't it a bit unexpected?"

"Not really, but it doesn't look good. I attended a few births when my mother still thought I'd inherit her in the midwifery business, and the signs are not good."

"Oh, Merlin!"

"Indeed. Rosalind is already with her, and I sent one of the House Elves to get the midwife from the village and to inform Ceridwen, but I need you to distract Godric - he almost broke down the door when I tried to kick him out, so I had to stun him. Keep him in check, all right? I don't need him running underfoot."

"Understood."

As soon as she saw him rising, Helga disappeared, apparently rushing to her friend's side. Salazar quickly pulled on a robe and hurried out. He found Godric recovering from the aftereffects of Helga's stunning spell just outside Rowena and Godric's quarters.

Godric was groaning quite loudly as Salazar helped him to his feet. He looked dazedly around him, and then his eyes lit up in alarm. "Rowena! The baby! I have to-"

Salazar clamped one hand over his friend's mouth and the other firmly on his shoulder. "You have to do nothing but sit somewhere far away from here and calm down," he said quietly.

Godric nodded uncertainly, apparently still not sure of his whereabouts or what was going on because of the stunning spell. It is possible that Salazar would have been able to steer his friend away from the door to his quarters and perhaps even get him drunk and unconscious, had they not heard Rowena scream.

They heard her screaming just as Salazar had managed to make Godric move a few steps in the direction of the staircase leading to the ground floor. It took all Salazar could do to keep Godric restrained. He feared that he would have to stun him again. Godric was doing his best to tear himself out of Salazar's grip and straight to the door.

"You know they said to stay outside," Salazar gritted, tightening his grip on Godric, straining against his pull. "It's a women's business, Godric. They know what they're doing - so keep your big nose out of it!"

"But - but, Salazar! She's screaming!" It was at least semi-coherent, so Salazar assumed the stunning spell finally completely wore off. He had to think fast.

"Yes, she's screaming," he said in his most patient voice, "but there's nothing you can do about it, now is there? She's more likely to start screaming at you for causing her all this trouble to begin with and that might make her situation grow worse. Helga, Rosalind, Ceridwen, Dahlia and the Village's midwife are all there with her. I doubt they'd welcome another pair of hands - and useless hands at that."

Grumbling, Godric settled down on the floor by the door and Salazar knew that there was no way he would be able to make him move. Sighing, he sat down next to him, leaning back on the wall, determined to be there in case Godric would take it into his mind to do something stupid.

As soon as the sun rose and the students went to their morning meal and discovered that none of their teachers were there, it was easily deduced that Mistress Ravenclaw was having her baby. Curious students went to the corridor in which Godric and Rowena's quarters were situated, only to be roared at by a distraught Godric. No later than midday, it was quickly passed throughout the school that it would be a very bad idea to go up there. Salazar was thankful for that.

It was past midnight when the door to the chambers within cracked open. The screams had stopped hours before. He was rather certain that Rowena was simply too exhausted to go on. Were he not there, Godric would have assumed the worst.

The second the door opened, Godric sprang to his feet, quickly followed by Salazar. The two watched it intently. Salazar's heart was in his throat, hoping that the one coming out would be the bearer of good news. It was Rosalind, and she looked exhausted. She looked up at them, and there was no sorrow in her expression. Only relief and contentment.

"Lord Gryffindor," she said with a bright smile dawning on her tired, sweaty face, "I am proud to present you - your son."

Salazar stood back, allowing a stunned Godric access to the woman holding the small bundle. And small it was. The tiny face peeking out of the small blanket Lleulu had spent months painstakingly embroidering with cheerful scenes was so small that Salazar was afraid that Godric would break the baby. His friend could be so clumsy at times. But as he watched, the big man gently cradled the baby in his arms and bent his head to gaze at him.

When Godric looked up, Salazar was not surprised to see tears streaking his cheeks.

"My son, Salazar," Godric let out in a choked out voice. "My Firstborn." Then he looked back at Rosalind. "Rowena - is she...?"

Rosalind's smile faded a bit, but she said, "She'll be all right in a few days' rest. I'm afraid my line is not very well adapted to childbirth. She's exhausted and in pain, but she will recover. Have no fear."

And all was well again.

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From his place on the raised platform at the end of the Council Hall, of which their table had been removed for the time being, Salazar watched the great gathering that had come to celebrate the ceremony of the Firstborn with them. The expression on all faces was that of benevolent congratulations and happiness for the couple whose wedding they had witnessed less than a year before.

On the platform, together with him, stood Helga, Ceridwen, Rosalind, Rhys, Dahlia, Bran and Shane, ready to bear witness of the ceremony. In the center stood Godric, his hand resting lightly on Rowena's shoulder, who, despite her loud protests, and in general agreement, was sitting in her padded chair, holding the little boy whose name was to be revealed that afternoon. Rowena and Godric had refused telling even their closest friends and their mothers what they had chosen to name their son. They said it would ruin the ceremony.

As soon as the crowd quieted down, Godric cleared his throat and said, "Rowena and I would like to thank you all for coming to this very special event.

"The Firstborn in a wizarding family, be it boy or girl, carries within it the promise of a new generation, a new life, a chance for the family to go on. It is the heir to a great part of the family's fortune.

"Our Firstborn is a boy, a strapping young boy who will one day grow to be a man. His future is unknown, his choices yet unformed. He may become a great warrior, taking his father's and his grandfather's trail. He may become a scholar of great renown, like his mother and his grandmother. This is not the reason for which we have come here. Here we will not discuss his future. Here we have gathered in order to celebrate his birth and honour him.

"In the tradition of Magic People all over the country, we have gathered eight people who are dear to us for various reasons. Each one of those people had been given a week to consider what they would like to bestow upon our child, the bearer of our hopes. The child's mother and I would also give him our gifts. We would now ask for silence. The magic will be put to work."

Rowena, her eyes shut, raised her wand and called out, her wand moving in intricate movements, "For the love of a mother, for the pride of a father, we gather here together. Eight of blood, by line or friendship; two who gave life; ten who will bequeath their blessing and their gift. I call before thee, to the magic that will bind, to the promises upheld and to the love that will conquer.

"Salazar Slytherin, I call thee forth."

His heart beating in his chest, Salazar stepped forward, and approached Rowena who was sitting regally on her chair. He kneeled before her and held his hands joined above the head of the newborn child.

"I wish you the strength of heart that both your parents have," he began, hearing his voice ringing in the silence around him. "That you will be true to yourself and to those you love no matter what; that you will be able to uphold you ideals and not give in to those who would wish to break you down. I wish that you will be able to keep your heart strong and true even through the worst of your ordeals. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Getting up to his feet, Salazar felt great relief, knowing that he had not fumbled in his words, and that he had not embarrassed Rowena and Godric for choosing him. Quietly he got back to his place. The minute he was there, Rowena's voice rang out again.

"Helga Hufflepuff, I call thee forth."

Watching it from the sidelines was much more fascinating than doing it himself, he decided, watching Helga as she kneeled before Rowena. It was certainly more calming. Helga, however, seemed to feel like he had felt giving his blessing. Perspiration glistened on her forehead as she spoke her words.

"I wish you that you will always know to appreciate beauty in all its forms," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "That you will know that even the lowliest creature deserves your appreciation and respect, because there is something beautiful in all living things. I wish that your life would be paved with that beauty and charm, and that you will never have to ruin your inner splendor because of someone else's schemes. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

After Helga came Rosalind, who wished him, "Great knowledge beyond compare, that will make you realize that not everything is as it seems. That you will know that truth does not always appear on the surface, and that you will always find a way to uncover that truth for the best of all. I wish you that you will always know how to use that knowledge, and that it will bring you nothing but good. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Ceridwen, her eyes shining with pride, glancing at her son as she kneeled, said, with tears in her eyes, "I wish you love. I wish that you will know love in all forms - In friendship and in the love of a woman. That you will always feel that those around you love you and know you for your true self; that they would never cast you off for earthly goods and that their loyalty to you be because you are truly appreciated and admired. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Rhys, his old knees making cracking noises as he kneeled, but his voice as strong as ever, wished the little boy, "Wisdom. To know what is right and what is wrong. That you will always know what decision is the true one to make and the reasons for which it is right. That you will never err in your ways and that you will help to create a better place for all those who are dependent on you or feel responsible to you. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Dahlia, on trembling feet, actual tears streaming down her cheeks, wished, "A caring soul that will take you far. That you will feel empathy to all those who deserve it; that you will care for wounded strays and wounded people. That you will always see where your help is needed and your support required. I wish that you will be renowned for your care and be cared for by others accordingly. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Not bothering to wipe his own tears away, Salazar knew that his sister was talking about her daughter, wishing Rowena and Godric's boy to be just like her Rhiannon.

Bran, who had been more than a little surprised at being asked to wish for the child, considering the slight enmity that ran between him and the four friends, said, in a very gruff voice that, "I wish you that you will be as strong as your father. That you will always be able to protect the ones you love, no matter at what cost; that you will use your strength to do nothing but good, and never evil. I wish that your strength will bring a great future to all those around you, who will support you and appreciate you for your help and protection. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Then there was Shane. Salazar knew why he had been asked. The oldest son of Bran and Dahlia had timidly approached Rowena and Godric as they debated who they shall ask as the eighth person, and asked to bless their child. Normally, this would have been considered a complete breach of etiquette, but they had all known the reason for his request. They had assented.

And so, as the young man kneeled before Rowena, his quiet voice echoed strongly in the Hall. "I wish you a great future. I wish you life, long and prosperous. I wish you that you will live to see better days, when witches and wizards would not need to be afraid of being killed, that you will live to see days where we would be able to protect ourselves from those who wish to annihilate us. I wish you happiness, pure and simple. I wish you life of wonder and beauty. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Shane was about to rise, tears staining his face just like his mother's, but was stopped by Rowena's hand on his shoulder. She could not say a thing that was out of the ceremonial protocol, since it would ruin the whole ritual, but from his place to one side of the platform, Salazar could see her soft smile and her nod of thanks. She would tell Shane exactly what his wish had meant to her later on, but for now, this was enough. Shane smiled back at her, and returned to his place.

"Godric Gryffindor, father of the child, I call thee forth."

Godric, a wide smile almost breaking his face in half, kneeled before his wife and son and said the first half of the Sealing of the Blessings.

"I wish you that all the blessings bestowed upon you this day shall be multiplied and upheld. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be. I wish you that happiness will be your share in life. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be. I wish you justice and truth. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be. I am thy father, who helped bring you into this world, and therefore so it shall be."

Rising to his feet, he held his hand out to Rowena, who took it and rose as well. Holding her baby tightly in one arm, she used her other hand to touch the child's forehead and say the second half of the Sealing. "I am thy mother, who brought you into this world. For that I have the right and the duty to say yes or nay to all your blessings.

"Strength of Heart - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be so.

"Appreciation of Beauty - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be.

"Great Knowledge - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be.

"Love - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be.

"Wisdom - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be.

"A Caring Soul - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be.

"Strength of Your Father - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be.

"A Great Future - I wish it, and therefore so it shall be.

"I wish you all your blessings, my son. That and more. May your wishes always be with you: guide your hand, your heart and your soul. I am the mother of this child, I am she who gave him life. I wish it, and therefore so it shall be."

Smiling widely, even more than before, Godric gently took the child from his wife's arms and turned to face the crowd watching silently.

"And in the face of this gathering, we name thee Ryan Gawain Salazar Rhys Ravenclaw Gryffindor, Firstborn of Godric Gawain Rylan Gareth Gryffindor and Rowena Catrin Deryn Ravenclaw. We name thy guardians Salazar Ailill Searlas Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff. Welcome to the Wizarding World. May your life be long and prosperous," he said in a proud voice, holding his squealing, frightened baby boy high up in the air.

All the congregated Knights, students and people of the Loch were cheering in greeting, only scaring the poor thing even more.

Once Godric put the child back in his mother's arms, Salazar looked at his ward critically. "It is a big name for one so small," he finally said, hiding the fact that he was honoured and excited to be commemorated in the child's name.

"He will grow into it," Godric said defensively, feeling protective of his Firstborn.

"He didn't feel this small when he was on his way out," Salazar caught Rowena's whisper to Helga and choked on it for a while. He was not used to hearing about certain womanly functions. It shook his confidence quite a bit to hear about it.

As Rosalind had predicted, Rowena had recovered after a bit of rest. It had taken her the better part of two weeks, but she had recovered, and as she was now sitting proudly on the padded chair with her son in her arms, she practically glowed. She had said that she wanted to get back to teaching just as soon as she would be able to stand on her feet for a few hours without tiring. Godric had protested, naturally, but Salazar knew it was a lost fight. Life was back to normal in the Castle of Hogwarts.

Everything would be all right, he told himself, as he watched his little family, all happy and smiling. Everything.

Ho-hum... I guess some of you probably wonder why I had to kill off Rhiannon, but I assure you it was for good reason. Just another stop on the way... the way to what? Well... you'll have to wait and see, won't you?

Thank you to all of you who read this story, and to those who reviewed:

Argyle: Hope that this chapter answered all your question from the last review :) Yes, I must say that the Helga/Salazar ship is one that is doomed to fail, mostly because we all know Salazar leaves in the end, but also because my Helga is Muggle-born, and we all know what he thought about those... thank you!

Kitt: I suppose this answered the question about Rosalind? ;) I absolutely love her. She's a more cynical and sophisticated version of Rowena... we can see where he daughter got it from... And as for the Council? Well... it'll happen soon enough, I promise. Thank you very much!

Katalyst159: okay, so it was somewhat of a cliffie, I admit - but a fun one! And I think this chapter answered all your question - especially the one about whether Rowena knew or not :D Salazar and Helga are indeed in love, but Salazar seems to have a bit of a problem with that - he's one of those men who find it hard to commit. Personally, I think he's just a little coward ;) I actually really like Hogwarts, A History and I've used it in another fic as well - though not as excerpts. Glad you liked it, too!

MischievousMarauder: Rowena indeed hasn't written to Rosalind in quite a few years, but that doesn't mean Rosalind hasn't lost her patience and gone looking :D And Ambrosius will make his comeback soon enough, don't worry - because no story is complete without the villain making a couple of appearances! About Helga, she has certainly gone through a transformation through the five years they've been away, but I absolutely loved making her return to her eighteen-year-old self with one sentence from Rosalind. Thank you very much for your review and everything!

Unregist291630: Thank you very much!

Doxycide: Thanks for letting me know! Happy to see you haven't tired of my story and that you're enjoying it :)

And that is it for this time! Thank you all and wait until next week's update!